There's No Need to Listen to the Music
by kittykatloren
Summary: At the back of the crowd, where the music was no less thunderous and the fans no less fervent, a man wrapped his arm around a woman's waist, feeling her hips rock with the music. Daine/Numair-ish modern AU oneshot.


**A/N:** A revisit to my old story, _Disparate_, in that this ficlet is another modern AU. Don't run away now; you might still enjoy it! This one is a little more OOC, but that's on purpose. Anyone's OOC with a little beer and loud music. So anyway, though this is a bit different than my normal Daine/Numair fluff, I hope you still enjoy it. As always, please review! Inspiration struck when I was at a big open-air concert a few weeks ago, so this is what came out when I got home.

I leave the characters vague on purpose, so I hope the pronouns don't get too confusing. This also means that you can also interpret this as any two characters you like; however, I see it as my favorites, Numair and Daine, of course. In this setting, Daine would be about 22 and Numair 36.

**Words:** 651  
**Characters:** Numair, Daine, (anyone really)  
**Time:** Modern AU  
**Genre:** Romance

* * *

The earsplitting music was so loud that it almost drowned out the sound of thousands of screaming fans. Even drunken yells were barely discernible over the echoing drumbeats. Sparks flew from the player's instruments in a chorus full of special effects, sweaty singers, and screeching guitars. Brilliant, flashing stage lights smoothed the night sky into a pale navy blue, the moon a mere sliver. Every inch of space around the stage was packed with bodies. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke, sweat, and the smell of alcohol floated over the scene like an ominous evening fog.

At the back of the crowd, where the music was no less thunderous and the fans no less fervent, a man wrapped his arm around a woman's waist, feeling her hips rock with the music. The girl was short and slender, very young, with hair that fell to her waist in a dusky tangle, and bright skin that, at the moment, was covered in a layer of dust.

The man, however, was older, tall, and dark-skinned, with straight, black hair that was long enough to be pulled into a ponytail at his neck. The woman leaned her head back and grinned at him, one hand exploring along his side until it reached his wrist. She grabbed his drink and knocked it back as skillfully as if she had been doing it for years. Wiping her mouth, she returned it, turning around to lean forward. The man wrapped an arm around her shoulders, the bottle resting against her arm.

Her head was level with his heart. She wore only a cutoff shirt, homemade, baring as much of her stomach and chest as the man would permit in such a public place. No one else was allowed see any more of her than the average swimsuit would expose. Her frayed denim shorts were so small that they could hardly be called shorts any longer, but he didn't mind that; her smooth legs twined in between his as they danced to the music.

He suddenly regretted wearing jeans, though not solely because of the thick heat. Sleeves rolled, shirt unbuttoned and open in the wind, he was cool enough, even with her lips on his sweaty skin. Her body pressed smoothly against his as she kissed his chest, her eyes fixed teasingly on his face. The man smirked. Other men's eyes were fixed on his girl, their gazes burning with jealousy. To infuriate them even further, he leaned down and kissed her brazenly, pressing his tongue between her lips. He could taste the alcohol hot on her breath.

Over their heads, the band played their final note, and the crowd screamed itself into a frenzy of jumping bodies and overexcited attempts to storm the stage or storm the way out. But they stayed where they were, letting everyone else rush past them. The woman lifted her hand and twisted it in his long hair, skimmed it across his dark skin, then slipped the bottle from his hand back her lips.

Still smirking, the man let her keep it, deciding instead to rest is arm protectively around her waist as they began to follow the masses. The woman's eyes vibrant blue eyes glittered with the sweet smile of intoxication as she glanced up at her man, who was equally carefree, equally wild. He slid his hand up and down her side, from her legs and hips to her stomach and chest. When her body swayed with every step, he felt the shift in her muscles underneath the smooth skin.

They forgot to pick up the free online music passes on their way out. The man couldn't erase his careless, almost arrogant grin as they walked home. It lingered on his face even when she trailed lips and teeth over his whole body, when his hands grazed over her bare breasts and pulled off her old denim shorts, and when she crawled on top of him and pressed her hips down, her eyes dark and hazy.

Ears still ringing, he gripped her waist and kissed her skin, smirking, empty bottles on the floor and empty tunes in his head.


End file.
